Outdoor Pursuits
by Delicious Poundcake
Summary: The students of Bullworth Academy go on a field trip. It's just a weekend of camping - what can possibly go wrong? Hint: ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

Hey, guess what? Warning for references to _homosexual activity!_ Oh noes! FLEE WHILE YOU STILL CAN!

* * *

Unlike some of his colleagues, there were times when Lionel Galloway really, genuinely loved his job. Teaching was hard work, yes, but it could also be extremely satisfying. Watching students gaining an enthusiasm for learning, reading the occasional _fantastic_ essay, being able to observe unruly pupils grow up to be functioning members of society with real promise... All those things were very rewarding.

Chaperoning field trips, however, was _not._ Particularly when the aforementioned trip was going to take up his entire weekend. It was moments like this that made him remember why he'd started drinking.

_Camping_. He didn't even _like_ camping! Come on - he was hardly the most _outdoorsy_ faculty member in Bullworth Academy, for heaven's sake. The only reason he'd been nominated to be the chaperone for the camping trip was that he'd been the only member of staff stupid enough to admit that he had experience of it. Once. When he was _five years old_. And now here he was, standing at the edge of a field and in charge of two crammed bus-loads of pupils.

He'd be dead by Monday.

"Come along, everyone. Off the bus, please. Quickly, now..." Mr. Galloway ticked the students' names off his register as they filed off the vehicle. "Careful with that bag, Miss Wiles... Yes, just line up over there. Hey! _Hey!_ Troy Miller, let go of Sheldon _this instant!_ Thank you. This way... Pick up the pace, please."

As he ticked the last name off his list, Mr. Galloway glanced over towards the other bus where Ms. Peabody was busy checking names off her own register. Well, at least he wasn't going to be the only faculty member here this weekend - that was something. Ms. Peabody terrified him, sure, but having her here was still preferable to doing this all by himself.

He still had to force himself not to just leap back onto one of the buses and drive away to freedom, though.

"Er, can I have everyone's attention, please?" Mr. Galloway clapped his hands together loudly. "Thanks. Well, uh, here we are. The campsite. It looks great, huh?" He laughed hesitantly, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt. Bullworth students could _smell_ fear. "I hope you're all happy with it, anyway, seeing as this is where we'll all be spending the next couple of nights."

A mocking voice called out from the crowd. "Dibs on not sharing a tent with Hopkins. He might try and hump my leg or something."

"Shut the _hell_ up, Gary!"

"Hit a little close to home there, Jimmy-boy?"

"C'mere, you jerk!"

"Just settle down, please..." Mr. Galloway sighed. They'd not been here five minutes and _already_ he was losing control of the situation. Fantastic. Luckily, Jimmy ceased his pursuit of Gary and calmed down quickly. "Uh, thanks. Much better. Now, er, you'll all find instructions and materials for setting up your tents over there. It'd be best to get started on that as soon as possible so we can make sure everyone is finished by nightfall. I advise you all _not_ to make camp near the lake. Oh, and only two people per tent, please."

Ms. Peabody took the opportunity to glower beadily at the assembled students. "And that's single-sex tents _only_, children! There will be no hanky-panky on _this_ trip!"

The mass eye-rolling that followed this statement was not lost on Mr. Galloway, though his colleague seemed to be blissfully oblivious. He coughed to clear his throat. "Erm, well, quite. Come along, then! Let's get on with it. And if anyone has any trouble erecting their tent, feel free to ask for assistance."

"Heh heh. he said _'erect'_."

Oh, _God._ Mr. Galloway closed his eyes in helpless frustration. "Just... Just run along, Mr. Northwick."

It was going to be a _long_ weekend.

* * *

"Come, now. This is ridiculous. We can't honestly be expected to do this _ourselves_, can we?" Chad Morris prodded a disassembled tent with the tip of his shoe. "This _has_ to be some kind of joke."

"Well, it isn't a very _good_ one," Tad fumed, waving a hand at their teacher. "I say! Excuse me - Mr. Galloway?"

"Having trouble?" Mr. Galloway smiled at them warmly. "I, uh, suggest you find someone who's finished their tent and ask them for help if you need it." He scanned the field, squinting. "Ah - there! I believe young Mr. Vincent is almost done. Perhaps ask him?"

"Vincent? _Johnny_ Vincent?!" squealed Tad, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline dramatically. "Asking any of those greaseballs for help would be..." He wrung his hands in horror. "It'd be _social suicide_!"

"Suit yourselves. _Hey!_ Robinson, step away from the lake _right now!_" Mr. Galloway ran off to apprehend Ethan, leaving the preps by themselves once more.

"Masterfully handled, Tad." Derby applauded his subordinate unenthusiastically, somehow managing to inject a veritable truckload of sarcasm into each and every clap. "Really well done."

Tad folded his arms sulkily while Parker proceeded to empty out one of the tent bags. He studied the instructions thoughtfully. "You know, this doesn't look _that_ difficult. And if those greasers can do this, surely we can too..."

"Of course we _can_ do it," Gord sniffed. He patted Parker on the head condescendingly. "But we _won't._ It's the principle of the thing, you know. This... This is _manual labour._" He smiled suddenly, looking off into the distance with a dreamy expression. "Hmm. Perhaps Hopkins would care to share a tent with me..."

"There. Gord has the right idea," Derby said, watching Gord with barely-concealed distaste as he practically _skipped_ away. "This is simply beneath men of our standing. Therefore, we'll just have to make someone else do it for us."

"I am _not_ sharing a tent with Hopkins," Justin choked out. "No. _No._ I'm sorry, Derby, but there are some things that I just can't bring myself to -"

"Justin? Kindly shut up." Derby rolled his eyes. "I wasn't suggesting we all suck up to Hopkins. We wait for some of the _lower classes_ to finish their tents, then we... comandeer them."

"Excellent idea," Bif grinned. "The nerds seem to be making some progress. Want me to go serve them with an eviction notice?"

Derby smiled graciously. "And leave all the fun to you? I think not, my friend." he motioned to his fellow preps. "Come along, chaps. Shall we go for a walk?"

* * *

"Oh, this is awfully decent of you, Hopkins. I do so appreciate you... _taking me in_."

"I _bet_ you do. Pass me the hammer."

_Ugh._ Gary made gagging noises as he turned away from Jimmy and Gord's nauseating display. If there was anything more sickening than Jimmy Hopkins himself, it had to be Jimmy Hopkins _flirting_ with someone. Seriously. Gary had a pretty strong stomach (cultivated through a steady diet of Edna's cooking at school), but merely entertaining the thought of Jimmy and Gord making goo-goo eyes at each other was making his stomach churn in an _incredibly_ alarming way.

Gord made a rather disturbing-sounding noise of approval as Jimmy began hammering tent pegs into the ground. "My _my_, Hopkins... Have you been working out?"

_Oh God!_ Gary turned to Petey, who was looking from the tent pieces to the assembly manual and back again with a look of utmost concentration. "C'mon, Petey. Get up, we're moving."

"Why?" Petey didn't even look up, his gaze resolutely fixed on the tent instructions. "I want to stay here."

"Yeah, well, I _don't_." Gary nudged Petey with his shoe and picked up a bag of tent pegs. "Seriously. We need to set up our tent as far away from _those two_ as humanly possible." He nudged harder, receiving no response. "_Pete_. Come on. This is _not_ the best time to start standing up for yourself, Femme-boy."

Petey seemed to disagree. He was avoiding eye-contact with Gary and tensing his shoulders - both telltale signs that he was gearing himself up for a bout of stubborn-ness. God damn it. He sure picked his moments. "I don't _want_ to move. You really think I'm going to let you drag me away somewhere secluded?"

"Yes." Gary was seriously considering lifting Petey over his shoulder and carrying him to a more suitable spot whether the little squirt liked it or not. "Yes, I do."

"No way!" Petey inched away, as if he'd read Gary's mind. "Look, I was really looking forward to this. I used to love camping when I was a little kid. Please don't ruin it, Gary." Petey began fumbling with the tent poles. "If we camp somewhere away from Jimmy, you'll just pick on me constantly. At least if he's around, you can't do anything _too_ bad."

"I can, Petey. I really, really can." Gary scowled deeply. "Look, moron - I just want to camp somewhere else so that we don't have to listen to those two _at it_ all fucking night. Got it? Now _move._"

"Eh? Jimmy and Gord? Don't be _weird._"

Gary dropped the bag of tent pegs with a little growl of exasperation. Okay, he knew Petey was naive, but this was _ridiculous_. "You can _not_ be serious. I'm not kidding, idiot. Have you _heard_ them? Why else would they be sharing a tent?!"

"_We're_ sharing a tent," Petey said reasonably. "And we're not... uh."

"Oh, like you wouldn't if you had the _chance_." Gary clasped his hands together girlishly. "Ooh, Gary! Isn't it _romantic_ here beneath the stars? Kiss me, you masculine hunk of manliness!"

"Shut _up_."

"Not denying it, little Petey?"

"Yes I _am!_ Just stop it!" Petey covered his face with his hands and let out an anguished groan. "See, this is what I mean!"

"You're no fun." Gary sat down on the grass, sulking. Fine - let Petey have his way. It'd almost be worth it just to see his face when he found out that Jimmy and Gord really _were_ having their own special kind of fun in the neighbouring tent. Gary glanced over at the two of them sourly.

"James. I'm _very_ impressed," Gord purred. "I never realised you knew so much about _pitching a tent_."

_Oh, gross._ Gary was never going to sleep again at this rate.

* * *

Johnny Vincent's tent was a fucking work of art.

Sure, to the untrained eye it looked just like everyone else's. But in reality, it was the king of all tents: the poles perfectly balanced, the canvas taut, everything put together with the precision that only an expert mechanic could provide...

"Nice work, Johnny," Peanut said admiringly.

"I know," he replied. There was something really satsifying about a job well done, even if it _was_ just a tent. "Mother Nature ain't gonna know what hit her by the time we're done here."

"Awww." A contemptuous upper-class voice from behind them caused both greasers to turn around, their hands automatically balling into fists. Derby Harrington apparently found their handiwork _very_ amusing. "Isn't that sweet, Bif? People having to take pride in something as primitive and inconsequential as _that_."

"It's not inconsequential for _them_," Bif laughed. "It's best to know how to put up shelters like this when you're the type of person who will inevitably end up homeless one day..."

Johnny pounded a fist into his palm threateningly. "You think you can talk to _me_ like that, you spoiled little _shits_?"

"I think they's tryin' to start a rumble," Peanut said as threateningly as he could.

"I think you're _right."_

"So uncouth," Derby sniffed. "I have no intention of fighting right now, _Vincent_. Best not to strain things, seeing as we'll be living in close quarters this weekend. Oh, it's going to be _dreadful_."

"I dunno," smirked Johnny, glancing across at Peanut. "Should be fun watching you pampered little pricks tryin' to cope without your rich kid stuff."

Derby laughed mirthlessly. "_Rich kid stuff_, you say? How eloquent. Are you suggesting that we can't stick this out?"

"You won't last five minutes," Johnny declared. "In fact, I'll bet you losers ten bucks that you can't hold out through the whole weekend."

"Ten bucks?" mocked Bif. "Vincent, my _shoelaces_ cost more than ten dollars."

"Although..." Derby's eyes narrowed. "You know, the idea of a bet _does_ hold some merit. One second." He and Bif turned away momentarily and exchanged a few hushed words before facing the greasers again. "Very well. I propose this - if we successfully last here throughout the whole weekend, you paupers have to clean Harrington House from top to bottom. We _were_ going to hire a maid to do it, but this should prove _far_ more entertaining."

"And if - I mean, uh, _when_ you lose?"

Derby glanced at Bif. "What's a lot of money in poor people terms?"

The redhead shrugged. "Not a clue. A hundred dollars each?"

"Done," Johnny said instantly, extending his hand towards the preps.

Derby shook it gingerly, his lip curling in disgust. "Tell me, Vincent, have you _ever_ washed this hand?"

"Can it." A triumphant smirk slowly crept across Johnny's face. "Hey... Go wash your hands if it bothers you _that_ much, Harrington."

"Don't worry, I shall." Derby walked a couple of steps before coming to a sudden stop. "Wait... no bathrooms. Damn."

"That's right. No bathrooms. No soap. No _toilets_."

As he watched the colour completely drain from the preps' horrified faces, Johnny decided that this was shaping up to be a pretty awesome weekend.

* * *

Since the field trip had started, Melvin had been _very_ busy. He'd hiked through the forest, fended off hostile wildlife, scaled treacherous cliffs and mountains and discovered the lost relics of an ancient civilisation. And all in the space of an hour!

_Doom Raider 3_ was the best game _ever_. He hoped he'd brought enough batteries for his GameDude handheld to last all weekend.

"Melvin! Put down that contraption and help us!" Earnest snapped, struggling to hold up a tent pole whilst glaring at Melvin through his thick spectacles. Melvin sighed and stashed the game back into his bag. He'd have to continue his adventures later, he supposed. It was understandable that Earnest would be a little stressed by the day's events, after all - the nerds were now all building their tents for the _third_ time. The preppy kids had forcibly evicted them from their first campsite, then the bullies had latched onto the idea and kicked them out of the second one.

_Bunch of jerks._ Many of the nerds were _still_ walking slightly bow-legged due to the mass wedgie-ing that had ensued.

"Hold this," Earnest instructed, motioning towards the tent pole. Melvin took it and held it still while his friends worked around him. They were getting very good at this, now. Still, _'expert tent constructor'_ wasn't exactly the kind of thing he could put on his resumé in the future, was it? Gosh. Making camp in a game of G&G was never this frustrating.

They soon finished, thankfully - it seemed like they'd been stuck in a cycle of setting up tents _forever_. "Success!" Earnest whooped, raising his arms into the air in victory and almost smacking Bucky in the face as he did so. "Oh, my apologies, amigo. But we're done! Finished!"

"And I don't think anyone's going to evict us _this_ time," piped up Cornelius. "Mainly, um... due to the fact that everyone else finished ten minutes ago."

"Oh." Earnest seemed crestfallen. He didn't have time to say anything further, though, as Mr. Galloway was blowing a whistle for attention once more.

"Alright, everyone!" Mr Galloway offered the students a weary little smile. "Excellent job. It's good to see everyone's finally finished. I'll be coming around and helping groups of you to start your campfires shortly." He looked extremely nervous - Melvin couldn't blame him, all things considered. "Do _not_ attempt to start a fire without adult supervision, please. There is a detailed fire safety section in your camping handbooks, so how's about you all peruse that until I get to you? Thanks. Uh... Carry on."

The nerds remained silent for a moment while they digested the latest development. Earnest spoke first. "Trusting those intolerably foolish jocks with fire?!" he squeaked, his voice strangled with terror. "And the _bullies?!_ What does he think he's doing? He'll doom us all!"

"That'th if they manage to thtart a fire in the firtht place," Thad lisped, spraying everyone in the immediate vicinity with spit. "Which I _theriouthly_ doubt."

Privately agreeing with Thad's assessment, Melvin glanced over at the little section of tents that was reserved for the girls. With the way Beatrice was glaring, it looked like she was in danger of starting a fire with the force of her will alone. He wandered towards her. "Greetings, Beatrice. What's ailing you?"

"Oh, nothing," Beatrice sighed.

"Oh. Alright, then—"

"Though I _had_ been hoping to spend this weekend with Jimmy," she blurted out as Melvin turned to leave. He turned back and sat down beside her as she continued. "But you heard what Ms. Peabody said - the girls all have to stick together. I'm... I'm being forced to cohabit with Eunice."

"Eunice?"

"Yes, _obviously_, because Christy and Angie are sharing and Pinky is with Mandy and I'd rather throw myself in the lake than share with Zoe or Lola. But Eunice _snores_ and I'm not going to get a _moment_ of sleep, especially not now that I know Jimmy will be staying with that preppy boy..."

Melvin didn't know why that was so upsetting, but apparently it _was_. He took the opportunity to ask while Beatrice took a breath. "Which one?"

"Gord Vendome."

"Ah." Even for someone not well-versed on the Bullworth dating scene, it was obvious why Beatrice would be unhappy. Gord had a certain notoriety associated with his name, after all. "I see. My commiserations."

"Mmm. It's not as though I object to him, u-um... _exploring his sexuality_ or anything, but Gord just isn't _right_ for Jimmy! He needs someone more... more intelligent and—"

"Jimmy?" Eunice herself walked over to join them and plopped herself down next to Beatrice, a huge smile on her face. "Oh, he's so _dreamy_!"

"I... think I hear Earnest calling," Melvin said, getting up hurriedly. "Farewell!" He hurried off back to the nerds' camp, Beatrice's despair-ridden sigh following after him. Much as he liked Beatrice, he wasn't about to sit and talk with her and Eunice about Jimmy Hopkins' sexuality. Besides - he had a videogame to get back to!

* * *

"God _damn_ it!"

Kirby scowled at the little pile of sticks in front of him. This was _such crap_. Like he was ever going to need to use a couple of twigs to light a fire in the real world, seriously. That was what _matches_ were for.

"Hey there, baby. Need a hand?"

And... Great. _Trent._ Just the kind of distraction that Kirby needed right now. "Not _now_, asshole."

Trent leaned forward and waved something very small and shiny in Kirby's face. "No, really. Look what _I_ got."

"A lighter?" Of course! Trent never went anywhere without his smokes. Kirby reached out for it, only for it to be quickly withdrawn.

"Whatcha gonna give me for it?"

_Damn it._ This was _so typical_. Kirby scowled apprehensively - Trent was grinning in a way that both enthralled and irritated the fuck out of him. "What d'you want?" he asked cautiously.

Trent tossed the lighter into the air and caught it again, still wearing that same damn smile. "Oh, you _know_ what I want..."

"SHHH!" The diminutive jock glanced around furtively. "Fuck!"

"What? I was just gonna ask you to share a tent with me, Kirb." He pouted in such an exaggerated way that Kirby was _almost_ tempted to laugh. _Almost._ "What d'you say?"

Kirby made another grab for the lighter, but Trent dangled it just out of his reach. "I say _don't be such a fuckin' homo_. Now gimme that!"

"Hey - nothing funny about two guys sharing a tent," Trent said innocently. "Everybody's doing it."

Well, _that_ was true. Kirby nodded slowly. "I guess..."

"And it's _real_ cozy inside those things. Y'know... Nice and private," Trent added.

_Sold!_

"Fine. Now give me the damn lighter. It's getting dark."

* * *

Wrapped snugly in his sleeping bag, Gary glared into the darkness of the tent. He was going to _kill_ Petey. Seriously. He was going to choke the little pipsqueak with his _bare hands_.

It was horrible. Exactly as Gary had predicted, Jimmy and Gord were engaging in some _incredibly_ unsavoury acts in their tent. Loudly. Enthusiastically. Gord kept _giggling_, for fuck's sake. _Giggling._ Gary had done some pretty horrible things in his life, but _nobody_ deserved this kind of torture.

A very tiny, very traumatised voice piped up from the other side of the tent. "Gary? Are you awake?"

"No, I've been lulled to sleep by all those _soothing_ noises out there. Fuck off."

"Um..." Gary could hear Petey shifting around slightly in his sleeping bag. "Do you, uh... think they'll stop any time soon?"

"Gee, Petey, I just don't know." Gary forced a note of false cheerfulness into his tone. "Maybe. Or maybe not. Hey, we might get really lucky and they'll be at it all night! Won't that be fun?"

Petey was silent for a moment. "Man. This is the _worst_."

"I know. It's such a pity nobody warned you that this was going to happen, isn't it? If only there'd been someone to say _'hey, Pete, let's not camp out next to Jimmy and Gord's House of Buttfuckery'._ If only—"

"I get it," Petey mumbled. "Sorry, Gary."

"Whatever."

"Maybe one of us should go and, uh... Ask them to stop?" Petey sounded hopeful. "I mean, they probably don't realise how, um... How loud they're being. Right?"

"Pete, you're a _genius_," Gary snarled. "Yeah. I'll get up and go out there - closer to the noise, close enough to maybe even get a glimpse of the _horrors_ within that tent - and ask them nicely to stop. Yeah. I'll get right on that."

A tiny gulp indicated that Petey didn't think it was such a good idea after all. He let out a despondent little sigh. "This sucks."

Gary fought back the urge to puke. "Sounds like _Gord's_ the one doing the sucking, actually."


	2. Chapter 2

When the morning arrived, it brought with it a _very_ disgruntled Derby Harrington.

Derby had slept for a grand total of three hours through the night. He actually thought he'd done very well, considering the circumstances. After all, the conditions here were simply appalling! How on earth was anyone supposed to get a good night's sleep out here? No silk pillows, no luxurious down-filled quilt to keep out the cold, no organic face mask to moisturise his skin while he slept...

It was _inhuman_. Simply inhuman.

Reluctantly, Derby untangled himself from his sleeping bag. _Everything_ hurt. It felt like he'd been snoozing on nothing but rocks. What's more, he was starving - he was going to have to ask about what they were supposed to do for meals around here, as it didn't seem like breakfast in bed was forthcoming. Ugh. This was utterly hellish...

With a jolt, Derby suddenly realised that he was alone in the tent. Which meant that Bif had either woken up before him, or he'd been eaten by wolves. Probably the latter. Derby stumbled out of the tent. "Bif?"

"Oh, you're awake!" Bif was sitting on the grass in front of the almost-extinguished campfire with his back to Derby. He got to his feet - with some considerable effort, if his pained groans were anything to go by - and turned to face him. "Good morning, Derb— _what the hell?!"_

"By _God!_" Derby let out a horrified shriek at the sight of his friend. Bif's hair was arranged in an unruly red mess, his clothing was rumpled, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. Derby couldn't help himself from recoiling slightly. "What happened to you, Bif?!"

"Me?" Bif pointed a shaking finger back at him. "What happened to _you?_"

"What..." A horrible sense of dread tingled down Derby's spine. "Find me a mirror!"

A quick scramble through their belongings uncovered a small, square mirror. After a small tussle over who would get to use it first, Derby and Bif stared into it in mute disgust. This was... unpleasant.

"We look like _poor people_," Bif eventually whispered.

Derby nodded silently. A night of disturbed sleep had most definitely taken its toll. He looked as bad as Bif did, if not _worse._ He brought the mirror a little closer to his face - were those _bags_ under his eyes? And...

Oh, no.

No.

_No._

If that slight wrinkle on his forehead was permanent, he was going to sue the everliving shit out of everyone even tangentially associated with the field trip. That was it - he was _going home._ Nothing was worth this kind of treatment, _nothing_—

Oh, _damn_. The bet.

Mentally steeling himself, Derby reminded himself that he _couldn't_ go home. Not now! This was a matter of honour. And pride. And not letting that insufferable oily imbecile Johnny Vincent beat him. Wrinkles could be fixed - that was why botox existed, wasn't it?

"Don't worry, Bif." Derby carefully attempted to smooth down his hair and regain a little of his usual highly-polished image. "At least everyone else will be in a similar state to us."

Bif didn't get a chance to answer, as Gord chose that moment to prance towards them looking irritatingly vibrant and cheerful. "Good morning, chaps!" he gushed, waving cheerily. "Lovely morning, isn't it? The fresh country air is so bracing. Just fabulous. Oh, I feel positively _perky_." His smile faded slightly as he received no response. "Something wrong? Say, whatever happened to _you_ two?"

Derby sighed heavily. "Sometimes I hate you _ever_ so much, Vendome."

* * *

Mr. Galloway smiled hesitantly at the crowd gathered around him. "Well, er, good morning! I hope everyone slept well..."

Assorted grunts and grouchy mutterings suggested that this was not the case. The majority of the students looked tired, hungry and decidedly mutinous. That, of course, was _not_ good. When _these_ students felt rebellious, very bad things tended to happen. Very, _very_ bad things. Mr. Galloway decided that the wisest course of action would be to try and pacify them as quickly as possible. "Um, good. Anyway, I'm sure you'll all be _thrilled_ to hear about the exciting activities we've got planned for you today!" He held up the schedule clasped in his hand. "Firstly, Ms. Philips will be here shortly because she's kindly agreed to host a special art class for you all. To draw, er... nature... things," he finished lamely. "You know, to take advantage of the beauty of nature and all that. Sounds interesting, huh?"

He received nothing but blank stares in response. Mr. Galloway coughed quietly and nervously loosened his collar. "Well, ah, I'm sure you'll all have lots of fun doing that. Then in the afternoon, we'll be going on a hike through the forest." He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice as he elaborated. "Don't look like that, everyone, it'll be fun! We might even see some wild animals."

The familiar sound of Gary Smith snickering broke the short silence. "Pff. This camp is full of mangy wild animals already. Just look at Jimmy-boy."

"Keep being a bitch, Gary. It suits you."

"Alright, boys, that's enough. Can we just... calm down?" Mr. Galloway held up his hands in a gesture of peace. He was getting pretty strong feelings of deja vu right now. "If everybody could just go and get ready for the art class, that would be fantastic. Thanks."

"Mr. Galloway?" Tad raised his hand. He was one of the more bedraggled-looking students this morning - it looked like he might not have slept at _all_. "I don't think all of us are exactly in the mood for a hike, old chap."

"I see," Mr. Galloway replied. "That's too bad. I could ask Mrs. Peabody to stay here in camp with those of you who aren't fit for the walk, if you'd like? I'm sure she could find something for you to do."

Tad paled slightly. "Actually, um, hiking doesn't sound all _that_ bad."

* * *

"It sure was nice of Ms. Philips to come out here like this," Petey remarked, carefully applying more detail to his landscape sketch. "I guess she thought Mr. Galloway could do with a break or something. And this is kind of fun, right?"

"Definitely," giggled Gary, who was instead adding detail to an extremely unflattering drawing of Petey. "You know me, Pete. Ever the artist."

Petey opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again in a suspicious little frown. "Mmm."

"What?" Gary smiled as innocently as he could. "I _agreed_ with you, didn't I? Don't look at me like that!"

Okay, so Gary was no art lover. Generally, his artistic pursuits were limited to doodling amusing pictures of genitalia onto Petey's homework assignments. But after the horrors of last night, all this artsy-fartsy hippy crap was suddenly very appealing in comparison. Anything that could take his mind off Jimmy and Gord's _adventures_ was most definitely a good thing.

"Gary." Petey peered over his shoulder at the drawing, then shot him an irritated look. "Is that supposed to be _me_?"

"Well done, Femme-boy. Very astute."

Petey's look of irritation only intensified. "You were supposed to draw _this_." He waved an arm towards the beautiful view in front of them. "The lake. Or the forest. You know - the countryside and, um, stuff."

"Nuh-uh." Gary adopted the legs-akimbo, hands-on-hips posture so beloved by Ms. Philips and launched into a passable imitation of her voice. _"Now, everybody, I want you to draw what you see! Let your inspiration flow from your fingertips and into your work!" _He dropped the impression, grinning mockingly. "I can't help that I happened to be looking at _you_ at the time, Pete."

"That's not what she meant," Petey said, glaring in a spectacular display of exasperation. It was quite an impressive glare by _his_ standards, but still incredibly ineffective. He reminded Gary of a scowling teddy-bear or something - any hint of threateningness was obliterated by a layer of girly fluff. "She wanted us to draw _nature_."

"Exactly. Unless you're some kind of man-made cyborg, you count as nature."

Petey's scowl deepened as he looked at Gary's drawing again. "I... There is _nothing_ natural about me in a dress."

"You're so _modest_," Gary said, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. "I think it suits you!"

"How would you like it if I drew _you_ in a dress?!"

"Hah. I bet you have sketchbooks _full_ of that shit back at school," Gary grinned. "Yeah. For your... _personal_ use."

"Wh— You are _so gross_," Petey wailed. "Jerk!"

Gary snickered gleefully. If there was anything more fun than getting Petey all flustered, he hadn't found it yet. "Sorry, Pete, did I get you all _overexcited_?"

"Boys. What's going on?" Ms. Philips approached them with a look of disapproval that vanished as soon as she set eyes on Petey's sketch. She lifted it up for a better look. "Oh! Peter, this is wonderful. Excellent work!"

"Thank you," Petey mumbled, shifting his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. He shot Gary an embarrassed little glare behind their teacher's back.

Ms. Philips handed Petey his sketch back, then picked up Gary's drawing. "And this is a marvellous effort as well, Gary. You're really showing improvement!"

He grinned at Petey, who now looked like he wanted to kill himself. Or Gary. Or both. "Thanks!"

"Yes. It's not _quite_ what I asked you to draw, but who am I to argue with inspiration?" Ms. Philips beamed. "Who is it? Your girlfriend? Whoever it is must mean a lot to you. It's like..." She clutched a hand to her chest. "It's like I can feel the love in each stroke of the pencil. Like you're really drawing from the heart!"

Gary made a tiny strangled noise in the back of his throat. Ms. Philips didn't seem to hear it, though. She handed the drawing back to him and wandered off to see what the other students were sketching. White with horrified rage, Gary twitched convulsively as he tried to ignore Petey's muffled giggles.

"Shut up, Petey."

"But I wasn't—" Petey was hurriedly silenced by a crumpled ball of paper smacking him in the face.

"I mean it. Shut up." Gary glared at him as menacingly as he could under the circumstances. "And stop fucking _smiling_."

* * *

"I hate art," Casey grumbled. He scribbled on his sketchpad half-heartedly before letting out a deep sigh. "It's for girls and _fags_. Right, Kirb?"

"Right," Kirby squeaked, 'accidentally' smudging the hell out of his own picture with the sleeve of his sweater before Casey could see the effort that he'd put into it. "Hah. Ha ha. Yeah. Art is _so_ gay."

"You got that right, buddy!" Casey held out his palm for a high-five. "But hey, at least Ms. Philips is easy on the eye. Gives us _real_ men something to look at, am I right?"

Kirby looked over at their teacher appraisingly. "Yeah. Man, check out how awesome her shoes look..."

"Her shoes?"

"Shoes? I said, uh... her _boobs._" Kirby coughed gruffly. "Er, yeah, boobs. Right. I'd, uh, sure pound _her_ cake."

"Haha, that's what I'm talking about!" Casey made a crude gesture that demonstrated exactly how much he approved of Kirby's comments. "Damn. Galloway has it fuckin' _made_, right?"

It was getting more and more difficult for Kirby to hide exactly how uncomfortable this conversation was making him feel. At least he knew it couldn't possibly get more awkward than this, though. "Right!"

"Yeah, you'd have to be the gayest gayboy _ever_ to not want a piece of _that_. Speaking of gayboys, what you doin' sleeping with that fag Northwick?"

_Holyfuckingshitwhatthehell?!_

Kirby's pencil dropped from his fingers as he desperately fought to keep from collapsing in shock. "W-what?! S-say that again, you—"

Casey let out a huge guffaw. "I didn't mean it like _that_, dumbass! I meant, like, sharing a tent. Why aren't you rooming with one of the team, little buddy?"

It took a few seconds for Kirby to catch his breath. _Fuck!_ "I, uh... I was gonna be stuck with Dan. So, y'know... I didn't wanna share with _him,_ he has killer B.O."

"True _that!_" laughed Casey. He punched Kirby's arm in what he seemed to think was a friendly manner. "But, _man._ Sharing with Trent Northwick. Harsh. Just let me know if he starts trying to get all touchy-feely with you, yeah?"

"Right," Kirby mumbled, quickly transferring his attention back to his sketch. "Sure."

* * *

"This is... very interesting," Ms. Philips murmured, turning Gord's sketch around and squinting as if viewing it from a different angle would somehow force it to make more sense. "I can see you really pushed the boundaries of your imagination on this one. I like the dog," she said, pointing to a misshapen scribble at the centre of the drawing.

Gord sniffed haughtily and fixed her with his most witheringly contemptuous expression. "That's a _tree_."

By some miracle, Jimmy managed to not burst out laughing. His eyes watered slightly with the strain of keeping his composure, and Ms. Philips looked back and forth between the two boys warily.

"I see the, ah... inner beauty of the piece isn't lost on you, Jimmy. That's very touching," she smiled, apparently mistaking his suppressed laughter for emotional tears. "Very good, you two. Carry on!"

"Humph. Ignoramus." Gord scribbled at the edges of his sketch viciously before abandoning it altogether, flinging his pencil into the grass in a fit of pique. "At least _you_ appreciate my work, Hopkins. I had no idea you were so culturally enlightened."

"Of course I am," Jimmy grinned as he sat down on the grass. "Culture is my middle name."

After checking the grass for any specks of dirt that might ruin his clothes, Gord sat down beside him. "It suits you. Ugh, don't we have something to sit on? These slacks are from Aquaberry. If I get grass stains on them I shall simply _die._"

Jimmy blinked. "You brought expensive Aquaberry pants on a camping trip?"

"Of course." Gord countered Jimmy's confused stare with one of his own. "And...? What _else_ am I supposed to wear?"

"_Cheap_ clothes?"

Gord recoiled slightly. "The very _idea!_ Nothing about me is cheap, Hopkins. You should know that by now."

"Whatever," Jimmy sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "They're just going to get dirty and ripped and stuff."

"As if that's an excuse for not looking my best!" Gord looked him up and down carefully. "Not that dirt and fraying hemlines don't have their places on _certain_ people, of course."

Was that supposed to be a compliment? "Uhhh... Thanks, I guess."

A nervous little voice rescued Jimmy from any further fashion-related discussions. "Jimmy?" Petey was walking towards them, looking worried as always. "Um, do you have a spare pencil? Gary snapped mine."

"Asshole." Jimmy handed over the pencil he'd been using. "Yeah. Just take that one. I'm done, anyway."

"Thanks, Jimmy." Petey hovered for a moment, seemingly reluctant to leave. "Actually, uh, d'you mind if I hang out here for a bit? I wanted to ask you something. And, er, you know..." He motioned towards Gary with his thumb. "He's still kind of mad."

Jimmy patted the grass next to him. "Sure thing, Pete. What's he bitching about _now?_"

Petey sat down on the grass, awkwardly raising his hand in a little half-wave at Gord as he did so. Gord merely nodded back, observing Petey as if he was the most interesting thing he'd seen all day. "Ms. Philips. She liked his artwork."

"And that's a problem?"

"Yes. Sort of. Long story," Petey sighed. "Now he'll be picking on me all weekend to make himself feel better."

"Look, you need to stop letting him take out his moods on you," Jimmy said. "Just ignore him. He gets off on the attention. Even I know _that_."

Petey didn't seem comfortable with the suggestion. "I don't know. Being ignored is pretty horrible. Speaking from experience."

"Yeah, Petey. That's the point." Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Fine. Then just pretend he doesn't bother you. You don't have to ignore him, just don't give him the reaction he wants."

"But then he'll do worse and worse things to _make_ me react."

Jimmy nodded, his face impassive. "Uh-huh. And then I'll beat the crap out of him."

"Oh, I do love it when you get forceful, Hopkins," Gord murmured, just loud enough for Petey to hear. "Mmm. So _rugged_."

"U-uhm, I'll, er, try that," Petey stammered, with a terrified glance in Gord's direction. "The, uh, _pretending he doesn't bother me_ thing. Yeah. No need for any violence or anything. Thanks, Jimmy." He scrambled to his feet and dusted off his pants, still looking just as worried as before.

"No problem," Jimmy said. "Wait, you wanted to ask me something, right? Was it just the stuff about handling Gary?"

Petey promptly turned bright red. "Oh, um, yeah. That... doesn't matter." He backed away, shooting another haunted glance at Gord as he did so. "Really."

Jimmy got to his feet and followed him. "C'mon. Spit it out."

The words left Petey in an incomprehensible rush. "Canyoukeepitdownplease."

"Huh?"

Petey looked like he wanted to go drown himself in the lake. "You and..." He pointed at Gord as discreetly as he could and lowered his voice to a tiny little whisper. "You t-two were, um... last night... kinda... loud."

"What? Oh. _Oh._" Jimmy grinned sheepishly. "My bad, Pete. I'll keep it down."

"Thanks, Jimmy. I, uh, b-bye." Petey practically _sprinted_ back towards Gary, blushing so hard that he now seemed to be glowing. Shaking his head, Jimmy sat back down on the grass.

"What was _that_ all about?" asked Gord, staring after Petey.

Seeing as Gord had no sense of shame whatsoever, Jimmy figured it'd be alright to answer honestly. "Uhh... We kept him awake last night, I guess."

"Ohhh." Gord's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Why didn't he come and say something?"

"Petey's kinda shy."

Gord pouted slightly. "Silly boy. He could have joined in!"

* * *

**Author's note:**

RUN, PETEY. Run like the wind!

NEXT CHAPTER: THE HIKE. SHENANIGANS WILL ENSUE. OR SOMETHING. Hopefully it won't take me as long to finish the next chapter as it did this one, ohoho~! Thanks for all the lovely reviews and faves and all that stuff!


	3. Chapter 3

Mr. Galloway's mood had improved considerably since the morning. The art class had gone very well, according to all reports. No major fighting, no mass rebellion, no children running off into the woods and getting eaten by wolves...

Okay, so things hadn't gone _perfectly_. Half the sketches that had been handed in to Ms. Philips were surprisingly detailed drawings of penises and a few of the boys had spent their time using pencils and rolled-up paper from their sketchbooks to make makeshift blow-darts, but that was pretty well-behaved for Bullworth. Besides, that pencil mark on Sheldon's head would fade with time.

...He hoped.

Anyway, now it was time for the hike! This was exactly what the students needed: a brisk, energising hike to blow off some steam. It would be good for them, he decided. A real adventure. After all, what teenager these days _didn't_ want to be part of a stalwart band of friends on a mission to conquer the very forces of nature?

Mr. Galloway sighed gloomily. _Ugh. _ Who was he trying to kid?

His mood recovered slightly as Ms. Philips' arm curled around his waist and she gifted him with one of her brightest smiles. "Are you all set up and ready to go, Gally-bear?"

"Certainly," he replied, quickly opening his rucksack for a final check. "Compass, water, map... Yes. I think that's everything."

"You forgot one thing," Ms. Philips crooned, leaning over and planting a red-lipsticked kiss on his cheek. "For luck. Have fun! I'll see you when you get back. Don't be out too late."

Suddenly, Mr. Galloway was very aware of how beautifully bright the sunshine was. "Oh. Well, yes. Um. See you then, dear."

* * *

"Gather round, girls - look! Aren't these flowers _pretty?"_

Sighing despondently, Beatrice followed Mrs. Peabody's instructions and went to examine the flowers. She had to conclude that no, they were _not_ pretty. They were tired, sad-looking, half-dead weeds. How _appropriate._

Usually she was quite enthusiastic about botanical matters - that kind of thing was related to biology, after all, which was one of her favourite lessons - but today she was finding it hard to muster any interest at all. She was trying, really! She was just _so tired_...

Spending the night in a tent with Eunice had been even more dreadful than she could possibly have anticipated. Eunice didn't just _snore_, oh no. She made loud, obnoxious snorting noises that sounded like an elephant with a head-cold. Plus, she'd stayed up half the night wanting to talk. That would have been tolerable if she'd had any topics of conversation that weren't related to Jimmy Hopkins. Or chocolates. Or Jimmy covered in chocolate. Beatrice could understand Eunice's enthusiasm, obviously, but there were some things she simply didn't want to hear about!

...Not while Jimmy was sharing a tent with that Gord boy, anyway.

There was no escaping Eunice through the day, either. Beatrice had been looking forward to hiking through the forest with her fellow astronomy club members, but it wasn't to be. Mrs. Peabody had taken charge of the girls and announced that they would be going on their _own_ walk. Zoe Taylor had kicked up a fuss - she _claimed_ to be offended by how sexist it was for them to be separated from the boys, but Beatrice thought that the redhead just liked being argumentative.

Apart from that, none of the other girls seemed too bothered by the situation. _Mainly_, Beatrice thought guiltily, _because they weren't stuck with Eunice_. She sighed unhappily - how had she managed to spend so many years in school without making any female friends? Alright, Angie was usually passably civil to her when Christy wasn't around... But that was all. It was quite a depressing thing to realise. It wasn't as though she was like Lola, who steadily alienated the other girls with her promiscuity. Quite the opposite in fact, seeing as Beatrice only had eyes for Jimmy and Jimmy was, well...

_Spending time_ with Gord. Best not to think about that too much.

With an angst-ridden sigh, Beatrice glanced down at her watch. _Wonderful._ They'd only been on the walk for fifteen minutes and she was already lonely and bored on a level she'd never been before. Gosh, she would simply _die_ if she didn't have a decent conversation soon...

"Man." Zoe's voice snapped her out of her introspection. She was scowling at the flowers that Mrs. Peabody had pointed out - apparently feeling as unimpressed as Beatrice was. "Flowers? Ugh. This is _so boring._ What I wouldn't give for a decent conversation around here!" She turned towards Beatrice, who was now staring at her in considerable surprise. "Yeah? What're _you_ looking at?"

Still mildly unnerved by how Zoe's words had echoed her own thoughts, Beatrice shook herself slightly. "Nothing."

Zoe raised an eyebrow. "Right. I get it."

_Get what?_ "I don't know what you mean," Beatrice said coldly. "So I—"

"I know that look," Zoe interrupted. "You think you're _better_ than me. Like I can't possibly know what a good conversation is, because no chat is worth having if it's not sprinkled with big words and obscure facts about the life cycle of insects. Right?"

"No!" protested Beatrice. Though now she was somewhat curious - what _did_ girls like Zoe enjoy talking about? She couldn't quite imagine. Judging from the calculating look on Zoe's face, she was thinking similar things about _her_.

"Go on, then," Zoe said suddenly. "_Converse_ with me. Unless you were busy talking to Eunice or something..."

Well. This was indeed a surprising development. Beatrice had a brief internal struggle in which her dislike of everything Zoe represented battled against her boredom. Curiosity and her aversion to dreary, lonesome walks quickly won out. But what to talk about?

"Well, er..." She cleared her throat nervously. "Um. Read any good books, lately?"

* * *

_Hiking_, Derby decided, was yet another activity that had now made it onto his _List Of Things That Only Poor People Should Do, Ever, Under Any Circumstances_. He was tired. He was frustrated. He was bored. He was sick of Tad's constant bloody _whining_.

"...And my shoes are ruined. _Ruined_. These are _this season's Aquaberry loafers_," Tad wailed, wiggling his foot in the air mournfully. "I had _better_ be fully compensated for this!"

Derby briefly wondered if it would be worth the scandal if he just murdered Tad right there and then. Really, no court in the world would ever convict him. It would practically be self-defense; _everyone_ knew that you could die from a protracted case of being whinged at.

Then again, killing him would take some level of effort. Screw it.

"You have money. Just buy a new pair," growled Derby. "Damn it, Spencer, you're acting like a _poor person_."

"Besides," Gord piped up, still displaying the same irritating level of peppiness that he'd shown that morning, "those are from _last_ season. I recognise the stitching. This season's design has a _darling_ little 'A' embroidered on the heel, and the laces are an ever-so-slightly different shade of periwinkle..." He trailed off nervously as he met Derby's eyes. "I, ah. Sorry, Derby."

Gord scurried off, presumably to join Hopkins' little crew. After a moment's pause, Tad resumed his complaining, now declaring that his shoes were _vintage_ and _impossible to replace_. Perhaps murder _was_ a viable solution... Clenching his teeth resolutely, Derby kept on walking.

Sometimes, being privileged didn't seem like that much of a privilege at all.

* * *

Gary was confused.

It was quite a novel experience for him, actually. Being a debatably-evil genius with a knack for knowing everything about everyone meant that there simply weren't many opportunities for him to feel confusion. That was _Jimmy's_ thing. But right now, Gary had to admit that he was genuinely bewildered. Petey was being... well, _weird._ And not in his usual way, either.

In an attempt to test Petey's new-found weirdness, Gary picked up a pine-cone from the ground, took aim and threw it at the boy's head. "Oops - sorry, Pete," he said, adopting his patented _I'm-Not-Actually-Sorry-At-All_ smirk. "My hand slipped!"

Petey smiled mildly and rubbed the spot where the pine-cone had struck him. "Oh, um, that's okay. Don't worry about it."

_Weirdness: confirmed._ Gary threw another one, this time in full view of Petey without even trying to hide his intent. "Sorry again! Man, I'm _so_ clumsy today!"

"Haha, uh, right. Nice aim."

Hmm. Something was very, very wrong here. Further tests were definitely required. "Petey?"

"Yeah?"

"How does it feel?"

Petey's brow furrowed slightly. "How does _what_ feel?"

Gary waved a hand airily. "You know. Being a girl trapped in a boy's body. A weedy little puny short-assed femme-boy's body, but a boy's nonetheless. Barely."

"It feels fine, I guess," Petey shrugged.

Jimmy took the opportunity to nudge Gary in the ribs as he walked past him. "Hey, Gary. So, do you do a lot of thinking about what it's like to be inside Petey's body? I _knew_ it."

The ground seemed to shift beneath Gary's feet as a wave of dizzying nausea washed over him. He stopped dead in his tracks, no longer trusting in his own ability to move. This was all wrong. Petey wasn't reacting to his insults. Jimmy - the same Jimmy who'd been fucking the school's biggest manslut a mere matter of hours ago - had just made a _'hurr hurr, you're gay'_ joke at his expense.

What the _hell_ was going on?

"—ou alright? Hello? Gary? _Mr. Smith?_"

The world snapped back into focus with a jolt. Gary was mildly surprised to see Mr. Galloway leaning down and looking into his face. "Huh?"

"I asked if you were alright," the teacher frowned, straightening up. "You, uh, look kind of pale. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea..."

"I'm fine." Gary meant to sound condescending, dismissive - instead his voice came out in a weak little whimper. Great. As if things weren't fucked up enough, he now had Galloway clucking over him like a fussy mother hen.

Mr. Galloway shook his head, clearly still concerned. "No, I think we've walked far enough. Everyone's pretty tired anyway, I don't know _why_ I thought a hike was a good idea," he mumbled, half to himself. He raised his voice and turned towards the other students. "Okay, everyone, let's start heading back..."

A few half-hearted cheers answered him as the boys began making their way back to the camp. Gary followed along silently. It was okay. Fine. He was just _tired_, that's all. After a rest, he'd be back to torturing Petey and outwitting Jimmy in no time.

Right?

* * *

One of the things that Beatrice Trudeau prided herself on was something essential to all nerds: her almost superhuman ability to _get things right_. She was intelligent. She had well-developed reasoning skills. She could recite pi to one hundred decimal places, for goodness' sake!

Therefore, she couldn't have been wrong about Zoe Taylor. Definitely not. The fact that the two of them _seemed_ to be getting along was clearly some kind of illusion brought on by... by... isolatory madness. Yes. The only reason that Beatrice was still willingly spending time with her was as a last resort because the boys hadn't got back to camp yet.

Definitely.

There was no other explanation.

"So then I was like, _you wanna play ball, hotshot? Let's go_, and I kicked him —" Zoe swung her leg forward, demonstrating, "— right _there_. It was awesome. He squealed like a little girl."

"I'm not surprised. With the velocity of your kick, combined with the sheer mass of your boots..." Beatrice swallowed. _Ouch_. "I'm astounded that he wasn't permanently disfigured."

Zoe let out a mischievous cackle. "Well, yeah. I don't wear these babies for _fashion_, y'know." She patted her boots with a grin. "I call 'em the _Castratinators_. Every girl should have a pair."

Beatrice tried to imagine herself clumping around the library in a pair of bulky black boots. Ms. Carvin would probably have a heart attack. "I don't think... I mean, they aren't really my style..."

"Style, schmyle." Zoe sat down on the ground in front of the girls' tents and patted the grass next to her in invitation. "Imagine being able to do whatever you wanted, safe in the knowledge that if anyone messes with you, BAM!" She pounded her fist into her hand gleefully. "Kick to the face!"

"Again," Beatrice said timidly as she sat down, "not _really_ my style."

"I guess not," Zoe conceded, leaning back on her elbows. They spent a few moments in amicable silence before she spoke again. "Hey, I wonder where the boys have got to."

With a glance at her watch, Beatrice's face creased into a concerned little frown. "Their return was due over an hour ago. I hope they haven't got into any difficulties..."

"They're _boys_. Difficulties are a given," Zoe scoffed. "We should be hoping that they haven't been mauled by bears or stung to death by a swarm of angry bees or, y'know... something."

Beatrice glanced at Zoe nervously from the corner of her eye. "I'm surprised that you aren't wishing that _did_ happen to them," she said. "Considering, um..."

"Huh?" Zoe shot her a glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing!" spluttered Beatrice. "Nothing, I just, um... You know..." She lowered her voice to a barely-audible whisper. "Because of... of _James and Gord_."

"Oh!" Zoe laughed, all traces of menace gone in an instant. "Nah, that doesn't bother me. Me and Jimmy have an _understanding_."

An understanding...? What could _that_ possibly mean? Beatrice contemplated it for a moment then stared, open-mouthed. "You're _swingers!_"

"Oh, _God._" Zoe cringed. "No. We just don't mind if either of us, you know... has fun elsewhere."

"But... with _boys?_"

"He wouldn't mind if I was with a girl," Zoe said. She smiled fondly. "He'd probably ask to watch. Little perv."

"Wh-what?" By now, Beatrice's eyes were in serious danger of falling out of her head. "_Do_ you go with girls?"

"Was that an offer?"

Beatrice shook her head wildly. "No! No no no, I just, oh _dear,_ I don't — I mean, I don't have a problem or anything, but — I just —"

"_Relax_," Zoe laughed. "I was just messing with you. Geez. Don't you and your other friends ever tease each other like that?"

"Um, no." Beatrice looked over at Zoe warily. _Other_ friends? Implying that Zoe counted herself as a friend?

_Well._

There was a first time for everything, she supposed. Even if it meant that the infallible Beatrice Trudeau _could_ get things wrong, after all.

* * *

Mr. Galloway looked at his compass for the fiftieth time within the last five minutes. Okay. The camp was outside the eastern edge of the woods, and east was... _that _way. He took a step forward, looked back at his compass, and wondered why east now seemed to be in completely the opposite direction.

_Oh, God._ He had to face facts - the compass was broken, he was lost, and the boys were probably going to kill him and eat his corpse.

"Sir." Earnest Jones tapped him on the arm. "Mr. Galloway, sir, we really must protest. This has gone on long enough. Several of my esteemed colleagues are _suffering_," he said, pointing at a collection of his friends from the astronomy club. "Observe poor Algie!"

"I can't feel my feet," Algernon whimpered pathetically. Mr. Galloway was pretty sure that was because someone had stolen the poor boy's own shoes and replaced them with a tattered pair of designer loafers that were three sizes too small. Children could be such _animals_...

... Animals that were _definitely_ going to kill him and eat his corpse.

"I apologise if this seems to imply a lack of confidence in you," Earnest continued, his expression wavering somewhere between haughtiness and fear, "but I really must ask. Are we lost?"

"Lost? Haha, the very idea!" Mr. Galloway gulped. With an unconvincing attempt at a self-assured smile, he opened up his map. He just had to keep the boys' confidence in him, that was all. Appearances were everything. "Of course not, my boy! Look, we're _here_," he said, pointing at a random location on the map, "and the camp is, um, over _there_..."

Melvin peered over at the map, his face paling drastically. "M-Mr. Galloway? That's not a map of the campsite. That's the novelty map that comes with every collectors' edition copy of _Doom Raider 3_." He glanced back and forth nervously. "Um, a-apparently. So I hear."

"What?" A shudder of horror ran through the teacher. "But I don't... how... where did _that_ come from?"

His words were lost as several of the astronomy club members descended into panic. "We're lost!" Bucky screeched, loudly enough for the rest of the students to hear. "Lost! Fated to wander aimlessly through this accursed forest for the rest of our _lives!"_

"Lost in the woods?" Wade Martin exchanged an excited look with Ethan. "_Dude_. This is just like that movie... The one where the dumb teenagers go looking for bigfoot and they're all, like, screaming and getting eaten and having their guts spread all over the place and stuff!"

"Yeah! The one where they all die at the end, right?" Ethan's eyes widened. _"Cool!_"

"I don't want to die!" Earnest wailed, his arms flailing madly as he turned and ran. Unfortunately for him, he ran directly into the immovable object that was Russell Northrop. Earnest tumbled to the ground with a thump, his glasses falling off and landing in the dirt.

"Huh?" Russell grunted. Earnest squinted up at him, gibbering slightly in terror.

_"Bigfoot!"_ he screamed, leaping up and running away into the woods. His glasses lay forgotten on the ground as he disappeared amongst the trees. "Save meeeee! Bigfoot!"

"Russell _knows_ he has big feet," Russell rumbled, watching Earnest's retreat with a look of mild confusion. "Russell has big _everything_."

"Go after him!" Mr. Galloway cried, addressing the students at large. This was _it_. He was never, ever chaperoning a field trip again. Never. At this rate, he'd be back in Happy Volts before he knew it! "The last thing we need is to get split up!"

"Yeah! 'Cause when people get split up in horror movies, they all _die_," Ethan supplied.

"Just... Just go after him," Mr. Galloway sighed. Lost in the woods. _Fantastic._ At least if he'd gotten lost in the _mountains_, he might have had a rescue party come after him with some medicinal brandy...

* * *

Hiking really wasn't so bad. The forest was kind of nice, not to mention that lovely piney smell it had. Unlike the majority of the guys from Bullworth, Kirby was actually having a pretty good time.

Of course, that was mainly because Trent had grabbed him five minutes into the hike and pulled him into a nearby clearing, where they'd been making out ever since. Kirby's only complaint about the afternoon's activities was that his lips were getting kind of sore.

"Chapstick?" Trent grinned, holding out a little fruit-flavoured waxy stick of heaven.

Scratch that, Kirby had _no complaints whatsoever_.

"Thanks," he said gruffly, quickly applying it in the most butch and masculine way that he possibly could. "Hey, you think we should be getting back to camp? It's getting kinda dark, yeah?"

"Hmmm..." Trent turned on the sleaziest of all sleazy grins before putting an arm around Kirby's shoulders. "Oh, I dunno. I think we could catch a few more min—"

He was cut off by the sound of something crashing through the trees nearby. A relatively _large_ something, by the sound of it. Kirby and Trent stood frozen in place, their eyes trained on the edge of the clearing...

"_People!_ I'm _saved!"_ A rather bedraggled Earnest Jones burst from the trees and fell to his knees, practically sobbing. Kirby let out a horrified little squeak of dismay, shoved Trent's arm from its very incriminating position, and bolted in the direction of the camp.

Trent, on the other hand, simply stared. "What _you_ doin' out here, nerd?"

"I... I was..." Earnest squinted at him, apparently unable to see a thing without his glasses. With any luck, he hadn't noticed Kirby's presence. He pointed a shaking finger back towards the forest. "Bigfoot! I can h-hear him, hear him _chasing_ me and..."

"You just _ruined my day_," Trent snarled, cracking his knuckles. "Bigfoot's the least of your worries now, dill-weed!"

Before Trent could take the opportunity to exact his revenge, a small group of students burst into the clearing to join them. Davis, Ethan and Wade grinned at each other upon seeing Earnest lying in a fetal position on the ground.

"Hey! Mr. Galloway, we found him!" Wade bellowed. His expression changed to one of confusion upon seeing Trent. "Huh? What're _you_ doing here?"

_Uh-oh._

"I... got bored." Trent folded his arms and leaned against the nearest tree in what he assumed was a cool, nonchalant pose. This was the kind of situation that his _awesome_ acting skills were made for. "Walking with the teacher is, like, for _losers_."

Wade digested this for a moment. "Awesome. You know the way back? Galloway got us lost."

"Sure," replied Trent. "The camp's back _that_ way." He pointed in the direction that Kirby had run off in only minutes before. "It ain't far."

"We're _saved_," Earnest repeated from his little crumpled heap on the ground. "Saved."

Trent scowled petulantly. Stupid nerd. Stupid nerd and his stupid _interrupting-awesome-things-ness_. "Shut up, dill-weed."

* * *

By the time the boys finally arrived back at the camp, Gary was feeling much better. A slip, that's all it was. Just a momentary blip on his otherwise unblemished record of nefarious genius. Nobody was perfect, after all.

He came really fucking close, though. C'mon. He was _Gary Smith_.

Much as he hated to admit it, the events earlier had shaken him. He'd always known how to push Petey's buttons. _Always._ Picking on Petey was like a part of his identity - to have that taken away, Petey's whining replaced with smiling indifference? It was just _wrong_. He couldn't let it happen again.

Not that it _was_ going to happen again. He felt all better.

Really.

Still, maybe he should test himself somehow...

He strolled through the camp, eyes peeled for a suitable target for him to pick on. It was pretty dark by now - the campfires had been lit once more and most of the students were huddled around them, talking amongst themselves or toasting marshmallows. Gary's eyes fell upon the younger kids, all grouped together.

A-ha! _Perfect._

"Hey, pipsqueaks," he grinned, looming over them in what had to be a very intimidating and impressive manner. "What's going on here? Nothing _untoward_, I hope."

"We're telling ghost stories," Karen said flatly. "Get lost."

That was... unexpected. Gary blinked. _Kids these days_. "I don't think so, _friend_. Hey, I'll tell you a story. A _real_ scary one—"

"Jimmy says you _fainted_ on that hike thingy," interrupted Sheldon. "Was the _hike_ scary?"

"I did _not_ faint," Gary hissed, his eye twitching slightly. "As I was sayi—"

"But Jimmy said you _pussied out like a little bitch_ and everyone had to turn back because of you. I heard him." Melody beamed triumphantly, then stuck her tongue out. "Jimmy doesn't lie. You're the one who lies about things, _liar_."

Gary's legs wobbled unsteadily.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!"

_Shit_. Gary quickly began walking away with as much dignity as he could muster. _Shit_. He'd lost it. Completely. He was broken, or something. What the _fuck_ was going on?

He couldn't live like this. No _way_. But what could he do to get himself back? Aside from skipping his meds and going nuts again, of course.

The sound of annoying, child-like voices singing _liar, liar_ at him floated over the campsite. Okay, maybe dumping the medication _was_ an option after all. Drastic times called for drastic measures and all that. Gary dodged inside his tent and began rummaging through his things. _Where were they...?_

_Ah!_

He pulled the little bottle of pills from his bag and looked at it silently. If he stopped taking them again and anyone found out, he'd be expelled in a heartbeat. But —

He froze. There were muffled voices coming from outside the tent, and one of them just mentioned his name. Was that Jimmy...?

"...any more trouble from Gary?"

"No."

And _that_ was Petey. Those two were discussing him behind his back? Interesting. Gary stayed perfectly silent and still as he listened.

"Told you. It's all about the attention." Jimmy let out a short laugh. "How long before he cracks?"

Petey made an uncomfortable little noise of distress - the type of noise that was usually aimed at _Gary_. For a brief, irrational second, he actually felt jealous. "Mmph. I don't _want_ him to crack. This feels kind of mean..."

"What? Pete. Seriously. Sticking up for yourself is _mean?"_

"No." There was a short pause. "It just _feels_ mean."

The voices faded as the boys walked away from the tent. "See, now you're acting like a pushover again..."

As he digested the new information, Gary lowered the bottle of pills. So. Jimmy. Jimmy-fucking-Hopkins was behind Petey's new attitude, was he?

Those two were _so dead_.

"Gary?" Apparently, Petey had returned to the tent. "Gary, are you okay?"

"Fine." Gary kept his back to him. "Just fine."

"Oh, um, good." _Shuffle, shuffle. Whimper, whimper._ "It's just that, you know, earlier..."

"I said I'm fine."

"You don't _look_... I mean... Okay." Petey sat down somewhere behind him. "You seem kinda, you know... Tense. You should just try and relax. It's a field trip, right? Kinda like a vacation." He gave a faint, nervy little laugh. "So you should just relax. Like I said. Try and enjoy it."

"Right."

"So, uh..." More shuffling noises came from the other side of the tent. "Goodnight, Gary."

"Night."

_Relax_. For fuck's sake. Was Petey insane? Gary didn't _relax!_

Although, on that note... A smirk pulled at the edges of Gary's mouth. Two could play at the _doing things drastically out of character_ game, couldn't they?

_Yes._ Tomorrow morning was going to be _interesting_.

* * *

As Derby eased himself into his sleeping bag, every muscle in his body aching, he was at least happy in the knowledge that the worst was over. One more day. That was all. One single day left, then he could go home. It was _nothing_. Then he'd win the bet and Johnny Vincent would be flitting around Harrington House with a feather-duster and one of those frilly little maid caps.

It was _definitely_ going to be worth it.

Really.

Derby got as comfortable as he possibly could under the circumstances and closed his eyes. Bif was already asleep, which was definitely the right way to approach all this. The sooner they drifted into sweet unconsciousness, the sooner it would all be over. A blissful smile crossed Derby's features as he contemplated being able to sleep in his own soft bed once more...

The smile disappeared as he was rudely shocked into wakefulness by a little nudge in the small of his back. Okay, maybe Bif wasn't asleep after all. Scowling slightly, and with his eyes still determinedly shut tight, Derby decided to ignore him.

Then it happened again.

"Bif," he grumbled. "Stop it."

There was no response apart from a more insistent nudge, this time closer to his shoulders. Derby tolerated it for all of ten seconds before he snapped. "For God's sake! Go to _sleep_, Bif!"

Bif let out a small, groggy groan. "Mrph. I _was_ asleep."

"Don't be asinine." Derby rolled over to face his friend. "And bloody well stop poking me."

"I _wasn't_."

"Then..." Derby fumbled around for a flashlight, turned it on, and shone it into the face of his tormentor.

The small, fuzzy, very _rat-like _face.

"_Aaaaargh!"_

_

* * *

_

Elsewhere in camp, a certain pair of greasers were also settling into their sleeping bags. As horrified screeches rent the air, Johnny grinned at his friend.

"Nothin' like preppie screams to guarantee a good night's sleep. Right, Peanut?"

"Right!"

Johnny Vincent was going to have _very_ sweet dreams tonight.

* * *

**Author's note:** Okay, so, uh, next time I go and say something stupid like _"hopefully it won't take me as long to finish the next chapter as it did this one, teehee, this is in no way tempting fate"_ you guys have full permission to track me down and PUNCH ME IN THE FACE. TWICE. Because it is clearly an invitation for both my health issues and my computer to both explode in a gory mess.

GRAAAGHH.

Thank you for all the reviews and stuff while I was AWOL! The next chapter should be the last. And with any luck, it won't take too long to write i— _[Insert ominously explosion-esque sounds here]_


End file.
